


searching for infinity beyond an empty moon

by inklovish



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Fires, Gen, Keefe plays the piano, Music, Piano, We love a musician
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23452738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklovish/pseuds/inklovish
Summary: "Soph, weknowyou. We know Dex. And anyway—even if we hadn't, he probably would have figured it out himself, don't you think?"Biana squeezes Sophie's hand, a silent message in this, worry in her eyes like looking into a mirror, and after a moment, Sophie squeezes back.Keefe tosses a pillow at them exactly fifteen seconds later. "Okay, you got your sappy moment. Now who's going to race the Keefster first?"
Relationships: Edaline Ruewen/Grady Ruewen, Sophie Foster & Biana Vacker, Sophie Foster & Edaline Ruewen, Sophie Foster & Edaline Ruewen & Grady Ruewen, Sophie Foster & Fitz Vacker, Sophie Foster & Grady Ruewen, Sophie Foster & Keefe Sencen, Sophie Foster/Keefe Sencen, but you don't have to squint
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	searching for infinity beyond an empty moon

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some things that are probably important to this fic: They're humans, not elves, and they live--well, I've based it off some places I've been to in LA (California!). Previously, there'd been huge fires (as there were in the book, but elves don't exist in this one, so it was just probably one of the most dangerous fires California's had, burning down much of San Diego. Sophie's parents and sister either died immediately in or slowly died due to the fires. Keefe got his burns while saving people from the fires himself, when nobody else was doing so--he nearly died in those fires. The Vackers had been on vacation or a business trip somewhere, so they weren't there to witness the fires.
> 
> Okay but listen. _listen._ I may be fond of Fitz and Sophie as a pairing (because Shannon is TOO GOOD AT HER JOB) but consider: supportive and vaguely-more-mature Sokeefe, who are able to give each other advice and be friends. This is all I'm asking for-

It's almost midnight and there are no more trick-or-treaters roaming the sidewalks and streets, no more teenagers hiding behind the bushes of Fitz and Biana's vast expanse of a mansion waiting to catch unsuspecting passersby, but there's still this party and it's _loud._

Ever since what her foster parents call _The Incident,_ Sophie has known she doesn't belong in—in whatever world of noise she was born into, not anymore. Words had never been her strong suit—she'd been born with that—but her working ear was never as functional as she needed it to be. She grew up surrounded by heavy metal (as per her biological parents, until the fires started) and oldies that Grady and Edaline never stopped listening to, appreciating them from afar but never really—never being able to _join in._ Which, of course, she _wanted,_ but—there was something that wanted to draw her away from all of the noise, now. Something that no longer let her find comfort in the cacophony of sound that was _supposed_ to be her world. 

Here, among her Foxfire High alumni, among dancers and artists and _too much noise,_ she knows she doesn't belong.

It's almost midnight and Sophie just wants to get as far away from this Halloween party as she can, so, naturally—she leaves.

Sophie is five blocks away from the Vackers' when her working ear hears it— _music._ Her first instinct is to keep walking, to stay safe and get home before Grady and Edaline start worrying, but a wave of loneliness-sadness-exhaustion crashes over her with every note she hears and before she knows it, she is standing at the yawning open door of a mansion and peering inside.

The piano shines in the moonlight through a tall stained-glass window, beautiful and sleek and elegant as it is. Sophie thinks it's the most beautiful instrument she'll ever hear in her lifetime, and she takes a step closer—daring, perhaps, for once in her life, to do so.

There is a boy—a young man, back bent, head low, golden hair turned rose-coloured in the light from the window. He wears a suit, but it is rumpled and torn and dirty, and she cannot see his face from here—his back is turned toward her. All she knows is that he seems _tired_ down to his very essence, and that he, without even a word, seems to know her better than anyone else ever has.

The music reaches its peak, and Sophie takes a step back, then another, until she is far enough away to let go of these traces of understanding and familiarity. _Edaline is probably worrying her head off,_ she reminds herself, and yet—she doesn't turn her back to the boy and the piano until she is far enough that she can't hear their song anymore.

Far behind her, a golden-haired boy lifts his head from his clouds of sadness and music and watches her go.

Alden gets back to Sophie on his search for survivors of the fire right after lunch and she is _tired._ Her parents had died years ago at the beginning of the fires, as she expected, and Marty is gone, and Amy is _dead_ after months in the hospital that her sister _wasn't there for,_ and Sophie just _can't_ anymore.

She throws her phone at the wall, hears the resounding crack that follows, and ignores the pain that comes with clambering out a window as she runs.

She can hear music playing softly, when she trips over a crack in the sidewalk and stops running—piano, far from elegant and put-together. It's a rush of anger and sadness and feels a lot like abandonment, sounds a lot like someone is crying other than her, only there are no tears and there are no words being spoken—but Sophie _understands._ She buries her head in her arms, tears slowing, and listens.

Sophie thinks she must have fallen asleep, but she eventually raises her head to silence, the blurry image of a purple sky, and a boy sprawled across a piece of the emerald lawn she's on. He seems to be asleep—his eyes are closed, hands folded behind his head, the corners of his lips turned down—and Sophie pushes back the scream that had fought its way up her throat to watch him, all golden hair and pale, freckleless skin. Sophie glances away once—just once, to try and figure out how long she's been gone—and turns back to find ice-blue eyes and a teasing grin.

"Admiring the view?"

She gives a _very ~~high-pitched~~ dignified_ shriek, and throws a handful of pebbles in his general direction.

"Woah, _hey,_ calm down—" He's leaping up like a cat, graceful limbs and swiftly dodging her flying objectiles as he continues, eyes wide, "That was terrible aim but still—I'm not going to hurt you, miss, ma'am, lady, just—"

He gets a pebble to the forehead in response, and gives her a flat frown.

"Stay away from me," Sophie snaps out, scrambling for something rough and hard in her hand. "I'll _throw_ this at you."

"I _said_ I wasn't going to hurt you—look, I just want to know what you're doing in my front yard."

Sophie curses internally. "Your—this is _your_ house?"

"I don't invade other people's lawns for fun, you know," golden-haired boy drawls; seeming to know that she wasn't going to throw the rock at him any time soon, he drops into a crouch before settling down on the grass completely. "A lot of people invade mine. You look especially sad about it, though, Miss M."

"Miss M?" she asks before the rest of his sentence registers in her brain. "And I am _not_ sad about anything."

He quirks an eyebrow at her, momentarily distracting her from his beauty, and responds, "You've _definitely_ been crying—and Miss Mysterious seems like a fitting name for a pretty lady I know nothing about."

Sophie ducks her head to hide the flush creeping up her cheeks. "I don't know anything about you, either. Maybe I should call you Mr. Mystery, too."

He laughs—a pleasant sound that has her heart skipping a beat—and tilts his head. "The name's Keefe Sencen—born and raised in Ireland before coming to SoCal. And you?" At her hesitation, Keefe grins at her, his expression void of mischief or suspicion. "I don't bite, Miss M."

"Foster," Sophie decides to tell him, adds on, "Sophie Foster, born and raised in Los Angeles."

Keefe hums, eyes flicking up from the grass to meet hers. "Sophie Foster." He glances skyward for a moment before smoothly rolling to his feet and holding out a hand to her. "You got a family to get back to, Sophie?"

Sophie takes his hand with the one left unblemished by the Incident and as he pulls her up she admits quietly, "I have—had—two of them, but—It's... a long story."

"I have a lot of time to get to know you," Keefe says, "But some other day, eh? Don't you need to get back to them?"

Sophie grimaces as she feels the soreness of her legs and glances down the street, flicking through memories until she remembers the way to Fitz and Biana's. "I don't think I should, yet. I mean—I have to call Grady and Edaline, they're probably freaking out, but I just—I can't go back home right now."

"Need a ride? Free of charge," Keefe offers, glancing out at the streets. "Just tell me the address and I'll drop you off wherever you tell me to." Despite the _don't talk to strangers_ anxiety that's been thrumming under her skin since The Incident, she's _definitely_ not up for walking the five blocks and crossing what is basically a freeway to the Vacker mansion—and she doesn't know why, but he seems trustworthy.

"Yeah," she says after a moment, her inhale seeming to remember that she's been crying with a tremble. "Sounds like a plan."

Keefe Sencen drives a silver Mustang that looks like it was made long before he was born, and somehow Sophie doesn't even feel a spark of surprise. He backs it into the driveway and leans his head out the window to grin at her, blue eyes teasing. "Ready for the ride of your life, Mysterious Miss F?"

Sophie rolls her eyes as she rounds the car and slips into the passenger seat. "Name's getting a little long, isn't it?"

"Only the best for the best." He casts her a playful wink. "Where are we headed?"

She recites the address off the top of her head, shuffling memories of Calculus problems under the more immediately important ones, and frowns when she sees his eyebrows flick up. "What?"

Keefe pauses in pulling out of the driveway to run his gaze over her and says in answer, "So you're the gorgeous and newsworthy Sophie Foster that Fitz talks about all the time."

Sophie can _feel_ the blood rushing to her face. "I'm not—wait, you know Fitz and Biana?"

Keefe gives her that grin again, filled with mischief and pure amusement. "Small world, eh, Sophie?"

They don't speak for the rest of the ride—Keefe turns on the radio, playing some swing dance song Sophie remembers her parents dancing to once, and Sophie drums her fingers along to the music absentmindedly. She watches him drive in their silence, appreciating his lack of teasing in exchange for focusing on the road, and in the midst of counting the few near-invisible freckles scattered across his right cheek, catches sight of scars—several of them, some hidden under the rumpled dress shirt he wears and some creeping up the collar of his neck. They're not fully healed yet; many of them are the shade of furious orange that Sophie's hands and arms are covered with, and Sophie realizes after a moment that they look like burns, too— _bad_ ones.

Sophie nearly asks him where he'd gotten the scars from, but then she remembers how she'd hated answering those kinds of questions, remembers how telling people why her skin was burnt and red and raw always tasted bitter on her tongue, and thinks better of it.

The rest of the ride is spent tugging on her eyelashes, staring out the window, and folding her burnt hands into each other.

Keefe unbuckles alongside her when they're parked safely on the curb of the Vacker mansion, and a "What are you doing?" spills out of Sophie's mouth before she can stop it. The blond boy grins cheekily at her, locks his car, and says in response, "I was planning on coming over earlier."

Sophie bites down hard on her tongue, but the smile escapes anyway.

Keefe is greeted by the youngest of the Vacker siblings without much fanfare other than a marshmallow being tossed at his chest and a dreamy smile sent his way, before Biana turns to Sophie and asks, very soberly, "Sophie, are red pandas actually related to pandas?"

"It's literally _in the name_ —" Fitz's protest is smothered by the pillow his sister throws at him.

"We need an expert's advice," Biana says sagely.  
Sophie squints, but before she can answer, Keefe cuts in. "Red pandas are marsupials, actually—so, not pandas."

Fitz receives another pillow to the face and Biana shoots up from the couch with a victorious cry. "I told you I was right!"

"Why didn't you just Google—" the raven-haired beauty flings her arms around Sophie before she can finish that sentence.

"Fitz and I covered for you when Grady and Edaline called—we didn't think you needed them freaking out over you being missing when there's clearly something else going on." Biana pulls away to look Sophie over, hands gripping her shoulders. "You okay?"

The offer to spill everything is tempting, but Keefe and Fitz's laughter is filling the emptiness of the mansion and Sophie can only promise, "I'll tell you about it later. I'm guessing that the bag of marshmallows means that Della's home?"

"Yep," Biana answers with a charming grin, teal eyes shining. "She's baking in the upstairs kitchen. Wanna go?"

Sophie doesn't bother to hide her grin as Biana pulls her upstairs.

It takes exactly one-hundred fifty-four seconds until Della lets her go after Sophie tells them both the whole story, the human epitome of grace and beauty breaking for a long moment. "I'm glad Keefe found you, Sophie," she says, eyes glassy. "I'm glad we decided to hope for the best."

Sophie tries to let herself relax, lets them pull her into the routine of baking Della's famous MallowMelt cake, but there's something else weighing on her shoulders that she doesn't realize until she's halfway through her own slice of MallowMelt. She curses aloud, apologizing as soon as she realizes everyone's looking at her, and explains swiftly, "I haven't talked to Dex since this morning, and—they probably called him before they called you guys, he must be worried _sick_ if they didn't tell him—"

"I called him," Biana interrupts quickly and tugs Sophie over to the couch. "Soph, we _know_ you. We know Dex. And anyway—even if we hadn't, he probably would have figured it out himself, don't you think?"

She squeezes Sophie's hand, a silent message in this, worry in her eyes like looking into a mirror, and after a moment, Sophie squeezes back.

Keefe tosses a pillow at them exactly fifteen seconds later. "Okay, you got your sappy moment. Now who's going to race the Keefster first?"

At first she thinks he means Mario Kart, but then Keefe Sencen pulls out some old Wii Sonic game that Sophie actually recognizes and challenges Fitz to a race. Biana grins at her in between yelling at Keefe to keep up his streak and beat Fitz, teal eyes bright. Fitz shoots her a smile that makes her head spin, and falls behind at _least_ five places in the game. When Keefe winks at her at the end of that first race, stepping off an invisible hoverboard with the beginning of a jab at Fitz spilling off his tongue, the whirlwind of thoughts settles and there is nothing there but the present.

Keefe pulls her aside an hour before he leaves, his brow pinched with worry, and he says, "Whatever you were upset about earlier—whatever made you want to leave home—I just wanted to say that whoever's back there, I've heard from a few reliable sources, they love you more than anything." He meets her gaze steadily. "Still—if you need a minute to breathe, you always have the Vackers, right?"

Sophie blinks at him, "Um—" she pauses, "I—I know that. It's just... bad news. I needed—I did need to breathe, for a second—but—thank you. I'll keep it in mind."

Keefe nods, dips his head in a bit of acknowledgment, and raises a challenging eyebrow as he looks back up. "You ready to be crushed in another round of Sonic: Free Riders, Foster?"

"Oh, bring it _on,_ " Sophie challenges back, and Keefe grins as he takes her hand and pulls her out of the hallway and back to the living room.

(Sophie doesn't even realize which hand he's taken until he shoots her a confident _time-for-another-Keefster-victory_ and lets go of it as they stand in front of the X-Box sensor.

Her burned hand tingles, and she smiles as she realizes he didn't even flinch when he touched it.)

Sophie listens to piano music, when she manages to find the time. She looks up gentle songs and mourning and angry songs, but there's something—something _missing,_ something that Sophie doesn't like not having.

She remembers the climax of the song she'd heard when she'd come to Keefe's house for the second time, the one that was grieving and furious at the same time. She remembers the magnetic pull, and tries her hardest to find something like that, but—she can't find _anything._

(When she gets home, her heart firmly resolved and her chin high, she finds Grady and Edaline crying on the couch. Instead of running this time, she tells them about the fires, and the fear of flames she'll never get over, and nights spent not crying for her mom and dad, and _Amy—_ spunky, smart, beautiful Amy Foster—and they don't get angry.

"Oh, Sophie," Edaline says, her voice soft and sad and everything in between, "Why didn't you want to tell us?"

"It's just—I thought that you guys might be upset, at first, because I—I knew that talking about the Incident made you upset, so I just—I didn't know what to do and," she falters, "When Alden told me that Amy was—was _gone—_ "

She sobs, for the first time in what feels like years, and Edaline and Grady wrap their arms around her and for once, she feels like things are going to be okay.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Drop a kudos and a comment down there and let me know what you thought :)


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